


Press 'F'

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, DOTO spoilers, Dishonored 2, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 14,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets about situations involving the odd but loving relationship between Lord Protector Corvo Attano and the Outsider.Romance and fluff, occasional angst, and endless amount of love and adventures for two souls that were bound to be.





	1. I Don't Mind, By The Way

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing tiny stories, so this calls for a collection-type fic for Dishonored (corvosider). I hope you will enjoy!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also would love to get some prompts.](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/ask)

“I don’t mind, by the way,” Emily says loudly, dangling her feet off the marble ledge where she sits. She doesn’t look at the Outsider who walks slow circles somewhere behind her. Can’t bring her gaze to meet his endless eyes. They terrify her and she thinks her father is a truly brave man to be able to face the Outsider so many a time with ease. At least, she guesses it from the way he told her the little bits and pieces of his visits to the void that were full of admiration, awe and wonder rather than terror at what he saw.

“Don’t mind?..”

She grits her teeth. He wants to make her say it and it is infuriating. But for her father, she does.

“This thing that goes on between you. I don’t mind.”

He is suddenly sitting on the same marble ledge, a pose so dangerous he looks like he might fall.

“Why thank you, your Majesty. It is for the first time in my existence that I get a permission from a royal figure to pursue a… relationship. Granted, with their father.”

Emily rolls eyes and wonders again what her father sees in this creature. Insufferable, complex, infuriatingly vague. But also helpful, devoted and reliable in his own way. The balance of these features angers Emily because she doesn’t understand.

But she doesn’t need to. She turns around to look at the void version of her father’s stone-imprisoned statue. She looks at his face, frozen in time as he tried to stop the coup. Another coup.

She remembers his eyes when he admitted to using magic. When she found a bonecharm under his pillow and a rune stuffed between the books. He told her about the endless limitless of the Void and of the god who inhabited it. She believed him with her childhood naivety, for she too saw all this in her dreams when the Outsider visited her young mind.

But as she grew up, learnt and matured, she saw something else. The way Corvo looked at his marked hand when he thought no one could see him. The gleam in his eyes when she brought him a rune from her trip to the ocean side. The confused face when he came to breakfast looking like he hadn’t slept in ages, an odd smile painted on his lips.

And now she could see another reflection of it on the Outsider. The longing looks he throws at the statue and the unprecedented gentleness in a fond touch as his fingers hover over Corvo’s stretched out hands. All the remarks he makes of her father’s bravery and choice making.

She gives the Outsider one of his own smug smiles.

“This will do you some good. Already growing soft here, all your attention on me. And sitting by his statue for hours, whatever hours may be in this place… Pining.”

She smiles widely with pleasure and the Outsider shakes his head, then fades off the ledge to reappear by Corvo’s side. Tilts his head as he looks at the stone impression of the man. 

Emily slides off the edge and comes up to her father to place a hand in his.

“I’ll make this right no matter what. And, perhaps, not only for him or the Empire or myself.”

The Outsider doesn’t look at her, his gaze trained firmly on Corvo, head tilted still. He brings up a hand to cup his face. Emily’s mouth corners twitch a little in a smile, more because it’s so odd to see it rather than find it amusing.

“Reality may be waiting, my lady, but it does not mean you have to keep it so.”

With a small wave of a free hand he sends her back in her dreams, from where life picks up and the Empress goes back to finding her way up Karnaca. And where time is still and the eternal wind blows, stands her father and the god, waiting for the resolution until they can meet again.


	2. Consider It A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: through some ritual the Outsider and Corvo swap roles: one becomes human, the other - a god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also happily take prompts!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

He has always wondered what an end would be like. Would it crush the Void itself and let it engulf him? Would he simply be forgotten in years to come and thus given to the sands of time to be devoured? Would someone find the way into the Void itself and run a blade through his heart?

What he has never expected is the end by a beginning.

He wakes up amidst the rocks and sand of a shore, his body drenched with the soothing waves of a sea. It’s cold, makes his body shiver in search of warming up. Leather is heavy and unpleasant against his skin and he wishes he could rip it off his body.

Fingers claw at the collar and sleeves, unclasping the fronts of his jacket and letting his chest heave freely, breathing in salty air. It stings his lungs and throat and makes him cough as if he is choking.

So many feelings. Overwhelmed by sensory data, his body fights with nausea and follows up with throwing up in the nearby bushes.

He lies back on the sand, staring at the bright blue sky, so much livelier than what he was used to in the Void. Clouds are passing by speedily, urged by cold autumn winds. There are no floating rocks, no shapes of whales. There is no eternity in his mind and he sees nothing but present which is painted with midday blues and yellows of the shore.

He falls asleep in a few hours, lulled by numb desperation which takes over his mind.

When he wakes up, he feels nothing at all. Neither warmth, nor cold, and yet his body is physical and weighs him down.

“How the tables have turned.”

He looks around and sees what he thinks is himself at first. But then the creature approaches, blackness of the Void curling around it. There are dark eyes and pale bloodless skin. Long hair and a touch of a stubble. Weary face which has suffered too much.

“Corvo?”

He hates how echoless his voice sounds. 

“I am sorry,” Corvo says simply, closing the distance between them and burying his cold, oh so cold, face in the Outsider’s neck. “You have suffered pain and death to become eternal. I shed not a single drop of blood, and yet I hold the leash on the universe while you are thrown back into the mortal world to struggle until your last breath.”

The Outsider feels tears roll down his cheeks, unstoppable and hot, falling into his mouth as he gasps and begs for explanations.

“What happened to us?”

Corvo embraces him, holds him strong and the Outsider catches a touch of the Void, a feeling so familiar that it tears him apart not to have it in the fullest. He would have it caged and kept, but the Void is no wild animal. And neither is Corvo. The Outsider cannot watch his steps anymore for he has none. Cannot be curious about his fate because fate of a god is eternal.

He cries and chokes and Corvo finds his mouth and soothes him with kisses which are like a cradlesong of the whales.

“Whatever happened, whoever made it happen, I can see them so clearly,” Corvo says when the Outsider’s breathing evens. “For that they must pay. Don’t think for a moment that I will let you fall. As you watched me march through the world, I shall now watch over you. And if you are willing…”

The Outsider gasps, a new wave of tears stinging his eyes. His hand burns like put in fire, even if he barely remembers what the touch of flames is. He watches the symbol etch itself into his skin, odd shapes and lines imprinting themselves on his hand.

“My mark. Consider it a gift.”


	3. Things To Get Used To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the first time Corvo and the Outsider wake up together in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiniest fic today to warm up for this Sunday!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also love getting prompts, so don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/ask)

Sun was such a tease that morning. Corvo remembers it vividly, how it shone upon the glassy surfaces of his many cabinets, pouring warmth of sunlight through a crack between heavy curtains.

But warmth of the sun wasn’t the only one that surrounded him. Helpless desperate arms were wrapped around his body, those of the Outsider now turned human. How innocent his face looked, nose turned into the pillow and mouth open just a little. His hair was all messed up, ink-black locks standing out against the white pillow. Corvo ran his hand through the side bangs, making them follow the line of the Outsider’s temple and lie smooth.

The young man’s eyes opened. Green. Corvo smiled as his chest swelled with an overflow of affection, watching heavy sleep-induced eyelids of the Outsider’s blink.

“It’s odd,” he said in a hoarse barely audible voice, cracking in aftersleep.

“What is?”

“Sleeping is odd. I saw dreams but couldn’t control them,” the Outsider frowned and pushed himself closer to Corvo, lips almost touching his collarbone. “And now I cannot remember what I saw.”

“It happens often,” Corvo said quietly.

“Such an odd thing but I believe I will have to get used to it. And to this,” he indicated the situation by finally letting his lips touch Corvo’s collarbone. Once and once more, soft pecks of a no less soft mouth.

“It would be my honour to help,” Corvo teased him, planting a gentle kiss on the Outsider’s forehead.

Though he knew the Outsider didn’t mean for him to see it, he didn’t fail to notice a broad smile on the man’s lips before he nuzzled in his neck. He had never seen the Outsider smile in such a manner before, only a smirk or a twist of a sneering mouth was bestowed upon him. Now it was genuine, strangely human. Corvo hoped that it was something the Outsider enjoyed doing, for he would have given a lot to see that smile again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-nonlethal-DOTO. The shrine referred to is from Dishonored 2.
> 
> [Come prompt me on tumblr :)](a-driftamonopenstars.tumblr.com/)

When he wakes up, a fluffy warm blanket is wrapped all around him and he can barely breathe from how closely he nuzzles in its folds. He’s never experienced anything like it and draws it even closer around his body, unwilling to meet his skin with cool morning air.

And then a tumbler flips in his mind, all cogwheels working and making him remember where he is and why.

He springs up on bed immediately. The window next to his bed is ajar and lets in the soft noise and ambience of busy Dunwall where workers have risen to go on about their duties. There is laughter and unfamiliar and all too familiar names and the whirring of machinery as well as the screech of the city rails. So many noises all at once, he remembers there being less in the Void, even if he heard all of timelines and possibilities. Here, in the Dunwall Tower, in a small bedroom that is now his, sounds feels alive. And so does he.

There is knocking on the door and he finds his hoarse voice to call after it.

“Come in.”

Doesn’t give a damn that he is still wearing only a set of pajamas, his hair is a black mess and he himself is currently a blanket cocoon. To his relief, it’s Corvo who enters, or rather a bunch of something bright and blue. Flowers.

“Good morning,” he says awkwardly, standing in the doorway and clutching at the green stems of the bouquet. It looks fresh, collected by hands rather than the tip of sharp scissors.

“Good morning, Corvo.”

“Glad to see you are here, awake. I mean,” he chokes on his words and looks away. The Outsider sits in bed still, smiling. He likes doing it, how his lips stretch and something warm fills his chest. It’s different to a smirk he used to employ while hanging in the Void.

“I brought you these,” Corvo says, striding forward and coming up close to the Outsider. It’s a bouquet of blue hortensias, their little flowers collected in large umbrellas. The Outsider takes the bouquet in his hands and runs fingers of the petals. Corvo hums. “I saw them at one of your shrines once.”

“I like them,” the Outsider mutters, a ghost of a smile on his lips still.

“I’m glad. Well, I’ll leave you to getting up. If you need any help, I’ll be--”

“Corvo, stay.”

His hand is in Corvo’s hand and he tugs at him a little, prompting Corvo to sit down. He does, bed creaking under his weight.

It’s a quickly made decision, perhaps, not a decision at all. The Outsider leans in and presses a quick peck, a kiss to Corvo’s lips and pulls away.

Corvo warms his hands in his grasp and smiles oddly. The Outsider leans in again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not feeling too happy today, so sharing a sad ficlet.  
> Suicide trigger warning (happy end).
> 
> Based off ultra high chaos DH1 ending with Emily dead. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](a-driftamonopenstars.tumblr.com/)

“Are you chasing something or running away?”

He hears his voice as it echoes in his head, bouncing inside his mind on a painful guilt trip. He stumbles over the Outsider’s words, chokes on his voice and prays that it stopped. But it’s all but a trick of imagination, hearing self-hate in a voice he came to…

Corvo looks over the edge of the whaler’s ship which hurries away from Dunwall. The city is falling into pieces as they cut through water, further and further away. The whalers are quiet, smoking their bitter cigars as they plan on what to do next. When Dunwall is devoured by plague and chaos, Karnaca will follow, and so will every city of the Empire. With two empresses dead within a span of a few weeks, there is hardly any hope in the end of the tunnel. Corvo suppresses burning tears as they roll in his throat and swallows his bitter pill.

Corvo sleeps deep inside within boxes and barrels, his clothes is ragged, blood-smeared and smelling of fish and rot. He never talks, it’s no habit of his to open his mouth unless it’s to chew on spoilt fruit and mouldy bread. His mask rests inside his coat as he fears of looking at it, the reflection of his face more than what he sees in the mirror.

The trip to Karnaca lasts for a whole two weeks more, and over and over he turns the Outsider’s voice in his mind. He dares not pray or call for him, but knows that the deity is ever close, watching. He strokes his runes and plays with bonecharms. After all, the Outsider’s power is the only one left for him. The runes sing.

He wishes to be spared the monologues.

Karnaca looks peaceful, a fake image of prosperity along the line of horizon. The closer they get, the more something swells inside Corvo’s chest. It clenches around his heart as a steel hoop, bleeding and hurting him, causing nausea which is burning his throat.

The port is almost audible from here, the chatter and laughter, life and happiness unaware. No one sees as he bends over the edge.

Corvo’s fingers hold onto the edge of the ship board. His feet are free off the solid footing. Just let go. And he does.

The water is ever so near and the end too, and he closes his eyes in relief, spilling tears into the salty ocean.

He never falls. A cold hand wraps over his wrist and holds him. Black eyes look down, neutral but burning, angry. His face has no emotions, but Corvo sees them all.

“Don’t you dare.”

When he pulls him back, it’s into the Void, in the ruins and crumble of rocks which hover in the air as water flows upwards among them. 

Corvo doesn’t realise as he shudders in cries, gasps and shivers and lies pathetically at the Outsider’s feet, grabbing at the hems of his jacket. He still has not a single word to say, only weeping out what hurts his heart.

After all, he simply wanted to make it right.

When tears take away all his energy, last bits of will to live, the Outsider takes him in his arms which are stronger than they look and carries him off to lie on a carpet beneath the ruins. Corvo rests heavily, staring into the endless blue. And as he closes his eyes, he feels the Outsider’s hand run through his hair.

“Nothing is eternal, Corvo,” he says thoughtfully. “Everything comes to an end. Even I.”

It’s oddly soothing, Corvo things as he turns on his side, body limp and soft from the soothing songs of the void whales. The Outsider’s hands are on his and his forehead touches his own.

He cries.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet ficlet for Tam. Thank you kindly for that gorgeous kiss art!
> 
> A story where the Outsider tries tasty fresh food for the first time.
> 
> [Find me on tumblr :) ](a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The whole of Dunwall Tower is in a fidgety state as Lord Royal Protector roams its halls from the break of dawn. Servants grit teeth as he passes by and cooks are praying to the Outsider for the man to leave them alone.

_ The _ Outsider, who sleeps in a room by Corvo’s chambers, head hidden under a blanket as he wallows in warmth, so unusual to his body. He has been asleep for nearly a whole day by now, ever since he’s arrived to the Tower, clothes ragged and eyes pleading.

For a long time now the staff will be discussing how the young man whose face seemed oddly familiar to everyone, collapsed in Lord Protector’s arms as if they knew each other for a while. Perhaps, they did, they do, hearing it from the young man’s quiet pleading “Corvo”, a name so familiar sounding in his mouth.

When a maid walks up to the bedroom’s door with a tray of food, Corvo snatches it elegantly from her hands.

“I will take over from here, thank you. You may go,” he shoos her away and the maid leaves, grateful.

Knock. Knock-knock. A hoarse “ _ come in _ ”.

He swings the door open, entering the bedroom. The Outsider stands by the edge of his bed, trying to pull a pair of trousers on. His hands are trembling visibly and Corvo hurries to put down the tray down and catch the Outsider who nearly stumbles over. They look at each other for a moment, Corvo’s chest swelling with affection he can’t contain. 

“Good morning,” he says softly as the Outsider slides out of his embrace and collapses on the bed, dragging Corvo by arms to sit beside him. His bare feet are curling the toes and his hands dig into the blanket. He looks frankly pitiful, and yet manages to hold his shoulders spread wide and haughty. But the way he looks at Corvo makes him even less possible and so vulnerable.

“Good morning.”

He stares at Corvo, like he always has. It should be unnerving, but there is no more endless blackness to his eyes. They are bright, green, curious and too old for so young a face. Corvo finds himself staring back and then snaps back to reality. Leans in and drags a coffee table closer to the bed, careful to keep the tray from spilling its contents all over.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks casually, such a generic phrase but full of sincerity. To his surprise, the Outsider smiles.

“I think it is considered well,” he says, finding a more comfortable pose on the bed, hip touching Corvo’s. He looks relaxed, but Corvo can see that this touch is intentional, eager. The Outsider clasps hands in his lap. “I didn’t see any dreams. Just… blackness. I fell asleep and next moment I woke up. It was nice.”

“You slept almost an entire day. Come now, I brought you some breakfast. You should eat.”

The Outsider stares at the food on the tray cautiously. Corvo frowns.

“Surely, you’ve eaten on your way to Dunwall,” he doesn’t say ‘ _ after being brought back to the world as a human _ ’. It hangs in the air heavily for a moment before the Outsider replies, running a hand by Corvo’s arm and touching him as if by accident. Corvo rolls eyes and runs fingers over the Outsider’s own arm, sliding fingers between his. He can feel shivers running up the young man’s hand and how quickly sweaty his palm becomes. He squeezes it in reassurance and leans to the side to press his shoulder for more skin contact.

“I’ve eaten what I could find and frankly, it tasted rather unpleasant. Rotten fruit and old canned food wasn’t the nicest thing to put in my mouth. Corvo, how could you eat something so appaling when you were on a quest to save Emily?” the Outsider says as he cringes, and Corvo laughs heartily in response. He catches himself and muffles down the laughter which is not a thing that comes from his chest often. But the Outsider’s pouting face, his observations and quirks make his lips stretch without any control. And he gives in.

“Well, I brought nothing rotten. I have supervised your breakfast myself, so help yourself.”

There are many fresh ripe fruit on the tray, their surface gleaming with water droplets in the morning sun. There is a coffee press, full to the half, and silver tableware. Tiny sandwiches with imported cheeses and crispy bread. The Outsider ponders and chooses to rip off a berry off the grapes branch. He puts it in his mouth quickly, Corvo watching his every move, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment over how much he seems to care.

The Outsider’s face brightens up in an instant and his lips open a little. He licks at his fingers and leans down to bring another grape into his mouth, then one more and another one.

“I admit, this is… delightful,” he says quietly, staring at the half-eaten branch. He is breathing fast, heavy, and looks at Corvo as if he has just opened up a mystery to him. “You must try it too now.”

Before Corvo can object and tell him that he eats this nearly every day, the Outsider rips a grape off and leans in to push it into Corvo’s mouth.

And then he freezes. Berry held in Corvo’s lips, the Outsider’s fingers touching on the upper lip of his. He presses at the berry and lets it slide into Corvo’s mouth with a soft pop as he bites on the berry’s thin skin, making sweet juice trickle out. Corvo watches how Adam’s apple wobbles in the Outsider’s throat as he swallows. The Outsider’s finger wipes at the juice, softly and carefully.

And then he pushes his finger forward. Corvo can’t help but nibble at it a little, warmly cover it with his lips. The Outsider looks at him with his own mouth hanging a little, gaze flicking from lips to eyes and back. Corvo’s gaze, on the other hand, is trained directly at the Outsider’s green eyes.

The Outsider moves his index finger back and slides it over Corvo’s lips, rubs saliva and sticky grape juice over them. And then, much to Corvo’s surprise, leans in. He is awkward, careful, unknowing of what he is doing. His lips are a mess against Corvo’s more experienced ones, and he slides hands over his body to hold him tight for reassurance, steadiness, affection. The Outsider trembles a little in pleasure and lets Corvo lead their kiss, capture his lips between his.

When he pulls away, the Outsider’s face is awestruck and just as bright as when he ate the grapes. He stares at Corvo, his green eyes wide and gleaming. Corvo presses forehead to his and rubs nose at his face gently.

“I think I’ll ask for my breakfast to be brought here,” he says with a sly smile, bringing a blanket around the Outsider’s shoulders and sliding arms under its heaviness, holding the former deity close. The Outsider smiles and leans in for another kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Corvo dies instead of Jessamine, the Heart still exists and so does corvosider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fantastically vague ficlet.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also love getting prompts, so don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Last thing he sees is a rubber mask and his own face reflected in protective discs embedded into it. Last thing he feels is steel in his chest, puncturing through his insides and drawing blood as the sword is being pulled out. He can’t see Jessamine behind the Whaler, but tastes blood in his mouth. Feels it trickle.

And then - nothing.

Nothing that he can feel. It exists, he exists, floating elsewhere, scattered remains of his mind which hold onto the most dear memories. He sees everything and nothing at once and hears screams of someone he used to know. She pleads to let her daughter go, but receives a slap across her face instead which sends her flying unconscious. He winces even as he has no body to do it, and then waits.

He knows he is not alone in the nothing. It watches and follows him where his mind wanders, trails behind like an owner would watch a beloved pet. Sometimes he feels a foreign caress, uncertain on how he can fall to such gentleness. But it’s there, grounding him. It feels colder than nothing itself, but it has soft hands and a way of making his mind clear. He succumbs to it every so often and then fully, allowing it take care of his floating thoughts and pain that remains. He knows that whatever watches over him, it is the master of nothing itself.

And he finds that with time, whatever time exists in this nothing, memory forms a more physical form of his, even if he himself is long gone.

He knows he used to have a name. Sometimes it passes by like a whisper, and he knows it’s the nothing talking to him, helping him hold onto the memories of a man he used to be.

He knows whoever thinks of him in the world used to mean a lot to him. He remembers a moan in the dark, a touch in the light, a cry of someone small as they cradled her in their arms. He remembers heaviness in his hand and light in his heart.

But he has no heart.

That one who walks the path of revenge now holds his heart, and when she does, he feels a pulse of connection, something that reaches out beyond death itself. As her fingers clench around flesh and metal, he gets a glimpse of the world he came from. And he speaks to her, sad when she spills blood and proud when she spares. He knows she has every right to, fighting for her daughter, for her country. A proper Empress with hands in red.

The one who rules the nothing savours what he sees. It’s an entertainment which is scarce where nothing exists. But sometimes his mind slips and his concentration is elsewhere, on the wind that flows through the nothing, the wind  _ he _ became. And the nothing dances around with him and sometimes he thinks it feels like like a kiss, gentle and loving and eternal. When they kiss and he looks back to the world, fingers clenching around flesh of heart, it shows years gone by, and yet he is still kissing the ruler of the nothing.

Soon he fades away. Slowly, dripping thought by thought, until nothing remains. He is forgotten by those who remain. Fingers no longer grip at the heart, and the daughter no longer remembers his name. It fades away into oblivion, and he is a chunk of the void, the nothing, that which stands eternal and watches the worlds go by.

Until one day a hand, physical, true, takes his hand. He looks down at it, his body which ceased to exist. And he asks the nothing, its ruler, looks in its black eyes that almost smirk. And though he says not a single word, he means that whatever is forgotten, becomes his. And he chose to keep.

He is the only one to remember his name now.  _ Corvo _ . A distant memory, one of the winds that drift through the nothing. And he exists again, by the god’s side, as he knows now.

Too many questions. Too many answers. He would rather the nothingness kissed the wind again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I promised not to write anything till I finish work on my thesis, but this was irresistable. Have 3 smooch ficlets in one chapter! First two are gifts for amazing [kooks](https://wehavekookies.tumblr.com/) and the other is for lovely [nork](https://wanderingnork.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr or send me a prompt :)](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

**1.**

Corvo smiles lovingly as he looks down at the Outsider, and the deity looks back with just as much fondness in his gentle features. The two of them are hidden within the safe and pleasant semi-darkness of Corvo’s attic, sitting on the creaky bed, Corvo’s arms wrapped around the Outsider’s waist. The god is oddly quiet, cradled in Corvo’s embrace. He looks innocent and somehow vulnerable. Corvo, the Lord Protector as he is, draws the Outsider even closer, allowing him to wrap arms around his torso. His right hand, however, rises to rest on Corvo’s weary face, fingers tracing down the lines of age and the sharpness of his stubble.

“How tired, exhausted you look, my dear Corvo.”

Corvo tilts his head into the touch.

“I will rest when Emily is safe.”

“And so the warrior fights and brings justice upon those who have wronged him. You are admirable.”

“And you really like to talk. And yet I find myself enjoying listening to you.”

The deity smiles, grins even, baring teeth. Corvo’s heart washes over with affection as hard as waves of the ocean beat up against the Dunwall shore. He leans down a little, slowly, and touches the tip of the Outsider’s chin, bringing him closer.

Their lips meet and capture each other’s softly, barely moving, a touch as light as a feather. Corvo’s heart thumps against his ribs and he feels the Outsider’s hand slip from his face and rest on his front, feeling for it. He moves his mouth and so does his deity, his lips so innocently sweet and unkissed by anyone but Corvo. He feels pride at that, chosen one and alone in thousands of years. And with that feeling in mind he licks at the Outsider’s lips, as if asking him, pleading for the kiss to become something else.

The god’s mouth parts with a smile that Corvo feels through the kiss, and he lets his tongue in a surprisingly hot mouth. His arms wrap tighter around the Outsider and his tongue slips deeper. Finds ever sharp edge of the teeth, feels for every roll of a muscle of the Outsider’s own tongue, withdraws to lick over dried full lips. The Outsider sighs, and even that Corvo kisses off him.

When he pulls away, the sun is already up and the whale oil lamps have burnt the last drops of their fuel. His lips tingle, but his eyes gleam as much as the Outsider’s. They look at each other fondly, and Corvo can’t help but wallow in the gaze of blackness that meets him.

To the Void with mornings, he thinks, and leans in again to kiss his deity till both lose awareness of where and when they are.

**2.**

For the Outsider life in the Dunwall Tower turns into one big adventure that seems to never end. Wherever he goes, he never knows when Corvo might all but pounce on him, pulling him into one of the window nooks, letting the curtain hang loose, closing them from the public view. He would kiss away till neither would be able to properly breathe and till their legs would shake. How it goes from there depends on the time of day, but sometimes even that doesn’t stop Lord Protector and his lover from running upstairs, hands held and chests full of giggles. The Outsider loves these surprises with all his heart, but his mind, busy with learning to be a human and with dealing with memories worth a god, often forgets to be prepared.

So when Corvo walks from around the corner, the Outsider only gives him a gentle smile, ready to pass by and go on with his business.

Corvo looks around briefly, checking for no guards to be around, and grabs the Outsider by his shoulder, dragging him inside a small library.

“Corvo…” the Outsider reprimands him playfully, pale cheeks heating when Corvo closes the door. He laces fingers with the Outsider’s, brings his hands up and slowly crowds him towards and against the wall. The Outsider lets his arms circle around Corvo’s neck, helpless in his embrace.

“What are you doing to me?” Corvo asks, taking his lover’s face in hands and nuzzling against the corner of his mouth. He touches the tip of his nose and then smiles fondly. “I seem to be addicted to you. I just can’t resist. Have you enchanted me?”

He kisses the Outsider once, biting on his lip, and pulls away. His gaze is longing, admiring. What he sees in those clear green eyes, the Outsider doesn’t know, but he does know what he sees in Corvo’s. He feels their heartbeats drum against each other and draws the man even closer, running a hand through his hair.

“I am just as addicted as you are, Corvo. Don’t seek fault where there is none. I would rather you acted on that addiction,” the Outsider smiles and tips his head up to invite Corvo’s lips. Corvo waits for a moment longer, exchanging a longing playful glance with the Outsider, and leans in. Their lips press together and both are smiling happily. Corvo’s hands hold his lover’s face steadily, guiding him into the kiss. He all but swallows the Outsider’s soft laugh when they capture each other’s lips, awkward somehow and yearning and with playful tongues. An involuntary soft moan escapes the Outsider’s mouth, which makes Corvo laugh lowly and press in even closer. He still holds his face and takes every bit of love off the Outsider’s lips, worrying them, licking at them, smiling into them. The Outsider replies passionately, teasing Corvo and making his blood boil. Corvo’s chest presses him hard into the wall and even like this, he feels protected. The Outsider’s young heart flutters as they caress each other’s mouths, and he feels faint for the feeling, addicted, as Corvo calls it.

He knows addictions are never considered good, but this one he will let pass and embrace it. As tight as he embraces Corvo.

**3.**

Corvo’s room and bed is warm, and yet the Outsider is shivering. But it’s not that makes him tremble like an autumn leaf, it’s Corvo’s gaze that studies him curiously, reverently. His bare body responds in a most human way as he clings to Corvo’s chest, seeking his warmth and touch.

“I never thought I would be so lucky as to hold you,” Corvo admits, heavily moving to press the Outsider to bed. He gives him no kisses, yet, barely any caress, yet, merely looks in his eyes. The Outsider looks back, lost in his feelings because they are so many and so intense. He only just arrived in Dunwall, and has already been granted the greatest boon of all.

Corvo slips back to the side, arm pressing around the Outsider’s shoulders and another running the tip of a warm finger down his steadily beating pulse on the neck. The Outsider swallows, and this prompts Corvo to move his caress down, till his hand finds steadiness over the left side of his chest. The Outsider turns to look down and then at Corvo, whose face is painted with thoughtfullness.

“You are so alive.”

His palm is pressed against a lively beating heart, fast and excited. The Outsider feels his breathing pattern change and his cheeks burn feverishly. He does feel alive, his body bursting with feelings he has never felt. It’s full of urges he’s never thought he would have. And that he can follow those urges, that he is allowed to do it, makes him all the more excited. He sighs deep, and Corvo looks at his mouth, head tilted.

And then kisses that delightful mouth. Openly, sloppily, letting his tongue slip in the Outsider’s mouth and drive him mad with want and overwhelming sensations. The world is so much for him, and yet he takes it all in because it makes him feel drunk and happy. He kisses back not knowing how, yearns to please and be pleased.

And all the while Corvo’s hand feels for the beat in his chest, the beat of his living lively heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love writing kisses :D
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also happily take prompts!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The Outsider has been waiting curiously by the shrine, waiting for Corvo to arrive in his search for runes and bonecharms. The deity watches closely from the thin veneer of the Void, floating, careful hands holding onto the shrine base. He is thrilled, and he is getting impatient.

Corvo finds the abandoned shrine soon enough, hiding the Heart away and turning his attention fully to the altar, where a rune offering is singing loudly. With barely hidden anticipation and hunger, one that a god must not exhibit, the Outsider watches how Corvo picks up the runes and runs fingers over his mark. Just the view of this sends shivers down his ethereal body and he leans forward, pulling himself into the reality of mortals. Darkness envelopes him, and his black eyes shine, still the darkest matter in the room. Corvo steps back, and the Outsider opens his mouth a little, anticipation gripping on him as Corvo’s gaze devours him. Reverence, awe, something else the Outsider can’t quite figure out. Corvo  _ is _ special, after all.

He cocks his head and pulls at the thin threads of all possible futures, finding those that look suitable and building a monologue from them. His vague cryptic understanding, unperceivable by mortals, can explain no riddle, but apparently bodies can.

He all but stumbles off the shrine when Corvo grabs his fronts and pulls. He falls right in his arms, helpless, almost flailing, and Corvo catches him gracefully. His large hand rests on the Outsider’s nape, and the Outsider gets only a brief breathless glance at Corvo when the man crushes their mouths in a kiss. The Outsider tries to pull away and say something, he needs to talk, but it’s not easy to resist Corvo’s insufferable desired mouth. And he melts into the kiss, allowing Corvo to hold him close.

It’s not the first time they do it, the Outsider still questions the reason and need that his being experiences, but it is what he anticipates greatly with each Corvo’s visit. Their mouths move softly, Corvo’s being gentle and inquisitive, cracked thin lips drawing the most human part the Outsider has out and delighting in all his godly glory. In return, the Outsider inspires eternity into Corvo’s mouth, sucking on his lips, licking at his tongue, pressing in almost painfully close. He wants to order Corvo to kiss him deeper, but Corvo needs no orders. His hands press on the Outsider’s back, and his mouth opens wider, losing breath as he grinds his tongue over the deity’s teeth and mouth overall.

The sounds that emerge from the Outsider’s throat are almost blasphemy to himself; small and human and pathetic, his soft moans are calling for Corvo to do more, to be deeper.

A creature that needs no air gasps desperately, when Corvo’s mouth withdraws and gently moves to kiss his jaw and his neck. Fingers dig in rough fabric of a coat, and the Outsider is a power of the Void that loses control over itself. His hand runs through Corvo’s long mane and pulls him back, a punishing passionate kiss taking his breathe away.

Lips kissed to the point of hurting, tongues caressing one another so lovingly, the Outsider and Corvo are lost by the shrine, drowned in the magical glow of it and, most importantly, sunk into each other, suffocating from love and lust. And while the deity pleases and the man desires, the Outsider and Corvo would kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Corvo Attano finally arrives to the place where it all began. Opportunities, love, betrayal and so many other things he didn't expect to be connected to.  
> An avatar of fate itself, perhaps, is waiting to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Did you know you too can send me a prompt?](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Dunwall meets him with a rosy sunrise. Its golden and pink pastels are drawing the line of the horizon where the sea is calmly swaying in soft waves. Karnaca is two weeks away from where he stands on the pier, arms crossed and eyes gazing away at the endless water blanket.

“Attano, we are dispatching for the Tower in five,” a young soldier says, patting Corvo on the back. He gives him a small smile and nods. Walking away from the pier will mean he finally stepped into a brand new life. Being here, on the brink between the Isles, with still a chance to leave if he wanted to, run away like a coward.

But he wouldn’t, because this is his choice to stay. His hand comes to rest on the hilt of his sword, feeling cold metal in the cup of a palm.

Soldiers pass by, unloading the ship on the dock. Corvo still stands to the side a little and breathes out shakily.

“Great things are waiting ahead, aren’t they, Corvo?” says someone, and Corvo turns to look. There’s a young man, nearly a boy, barely his own age, standing close to Corvo. When he approached, Corvo doesn’t know, so he peers at him curiously. The young man doesn’t turn his head, looking ahead calmly. He has a presence, as if the world is meaningless where he stands, but he matters instead. His hair moves on the wind. He holds his face high, haughty, hands clasped behind his back. Corvo’s gaze lingers on him almost unintentionally.

“Take your time, young Corvo,” says he, who looks like he has only just left a parental home. “Enjoy what Dunwall has to offer. And when the time comes, remember this day on the pier, that brought you to a world of excitement and ambition.”

The young man steps to stand next to him, head bowed low for a second, hiding his face away behind the collar. Corvo allows him to be in his vicinity purely for the shock of his presence, that somehow makes flowers blossom in Corvo’s chest. Providence, fate, what this man is the avatar of Corvo doesn’t know, perhaps, he is an illusion for all Corvo knows. But they stand side by side and watch the sun rise.

“Corvo, we are leaving!” the same young soldier comes to clasp on his shoulder, and Corvo turns to pat his hand and follow.

“Until we meet again,” a soft whisper says, and when Corvo looks around, the young man is there no more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written for an anonymous tumblr ask, requesting some gentle face holding. Can do!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Never before has Corvo been so relieved and happy to find a shrine, gleaming majestically in the old basement. An island of peace, fenced against the plague and the Overseers and anyone who is not meant to see this sacred enclave.

Corvo stumbles on the broken threshold, ducking away from the half-fallen ceiling beam. He goes to the floor, groaning as he has to fold himself up a little. It hurts to move, it hurts to think. Corvo presses his hand to his side, fingers soaking in blood just as his coat does, flesh torn by an explosive bullet. If he doesn’t do anything about it in the nearest ten minutes, he’s as good as dead. And he is no good to little Emily as dead.

The room turns black, or, perhaps, his vision has given up from pain. Corvo doesn’t know until the moment the Outsider’s echoing voice, deeper and louder than existence itself, spells to him.

“No existence is pointless, Corvo, but ending yours in such a manner would serve little purpose in general,” the deity muses, hovering beside the shrine, looking down at his marked charge. Corvo looks back, eyes bleary and heavy. He groans again and presses hand into the wound, while the other rummages through his pocket in search of the life saving potion.

To his surprise, even through half-closed eyes, Corvo sees the Outsider crouch before him and remove a vial of red potion from his pocket. He uncorks it and richly pours in Corvo’s mouth, tipping his head with an index finger. Corvo drinks the sweet liquid, staring at the Outsider, his savior, his god. Potions drips from his lips as he misses drinking all of it, and gratitude drips with it just as richly. Perhaps, not in words, but in how Corvo gazes up, how he can’t help but raise his hand to circle fingers over the deity’s wrist, holding onto him gently.

Time pauses, either by the whim of his imagination or by the whim of the god, and Corvo relishes the moment he can take for himself, even as pain tears him apart.

“You are safe here, Corvo. This shrine has been abandoned for many years, no worshipper, no sinner has visited it. No one, but you,” the Outsider says in a voice as gentle as the sea waves in still weather. Corvo tilts his head, feeling drowsy as the potion works to patch him up.

“What does it make me, then?” he asks, smiling, his hand sliding up over the back of the Outsider’s hand. The god tilts his head too, cupping Corvo’s cheek first with one hand and then both.

“Someone fascinating. Someone special,” he breathes, and Corvo realises that the words hover just above his lips, and then in his lips as the Outsider kisses him, sweetening his mouth up with a kiss and those terrible wonderful words. Corvo’s brows arch high, his eyes close tightly. But before he can properly kiss back or even fall in a gentle pace, the Outsider moves back, lingering the touch on Corvo’s face just for a moment longer, before he steps back and vanishes into the blackness of the Void with a soft whisper, leaving trails and scraps of matter behind and then - nothing at all.

Corvo sits on the floor, soothed in the purple light of the shrine, his lips pulled in a softest smile, the pain in his wounded side gone entirely.

It feels like a new beginning. And yet, it feels like he has already gotten used to it. Fascinating.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making a small dump of ficlets here. I had a beautiful influx of corvosider kiss requests, so here are 3 recent ones. By the way, you too can prompt me, here in comments or on tumblr by visiting my inbox!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

**prompt: the Outsider getting a surprise kiss, leaving him speechless**

* * *

 

The Outsider’s painted image has been framed in molded gold and brass, rich textures and patterns surrounding the elaborate painting. It’s large and detailed, standing propped on a sofa, pillows holding it in place. The painting itself is beautiful, a little vague in depicting the deity. His face is somewhat obscured by the free brush strokes and his eyes burn with the god’s fury and glory.

“I did not look like that,” the Outsider says defensively, crossing his arms on his chest while glaring at the painting which bears a certain amount of similarity to the living inspiration. Except that now the Outsider’s eyes are human, green and intending to burn a hole in the canvas.

Corvo watches him amused, sideways, not saying a word. His lips are curled up in a lovesick smile just as his eyes are curtained with that same lovesickness.

“And I would never pose like this. It is… was not my style. And look at this smile, this is horrifying and not from the point of view of a bystander, I am giving this a very strict judgement and critisicm as audience and as a supposed target of the painting.”

He leans forward and pokes his finger at his own face.

“Ridiculous. But I will not be entirely critical, I can appreciate the choice of the palette and the skill of the artist, even if the depiction pleases me little. Corvo, where did you even–”

Any questions are knocked out of the Outsider’s chest just as air is, when Corvo pulls him against himself and kisses him. The Outsider’s protests die quickly as he wraps arms around Corvo’s neck, fingers sliding to hold his hair, his other hand returning to rest on his chest.

The kiss is brief, but sloppy, hot, open-mouthed and entirely unashamed. Corvo lets out a small groan when he plunges his tongue deeper and then pulls away with a gasp. The Outsider holds onto him, eyes wide and wild and mouth reddened.

“What was that for?”

“You…” Corvo pants, pressing forehead to the Outsider’s and smiling brightly, “are insufferable and wonderful and ridiculous. I couldn’t love you more even if I tried.”

The Outsider huffs but his lips are already curled in a happy smile, and without further ado, he prompts Corvo on the nape and they kiss again, just as unashamed, just as fervent, watched by the Outsider’s quiet painted image.

 

**prompt: the Outsider arrives at Dunwall Tower for first time since becoming human, converses with Emily, etc explaining things but Corvo is stunned silent, just staring. Worried, the Outsider asks what’s wrong and gets first-time smooches in reply**

* * *

“…and thus I have found myself in Dunwall, where I wanted to be. There isn’t any other place I could go to. And be it as it may, you are my only hope and destination.”

Silence establishes itself. The Outsider looks, the range of his sight so much more narrowed than when he was a god. Not a single other angle, no dozens of possibilities. Just this one present, unknown, terrifying a little.

Reading people when they lay their souls bare before you used to be so easy, the Outsider muses for a brief moment. He is looking at Emily, sat before him with her mouth hanging open at his story of escaping the Void at last, of being aided by Billie, of being guided through this world not like a being of millenia but an unlearned child. Emily’s thoughts are out of his reach, but he can still guess. She is sympathetic, curious, she believes him without a moment’s hesitation.

Yet Corvo…

The Outsider has never been able to read him quite as easily. His actions always surprising, his mind elsewhere, his goals obscured. He could be a man of thousands of possibilities, and he always chose something the Outsider expected least. It made him enticing, and still does.

He does not say a single word when this conversation is over and, much to the Outsider’s relief, Emily offers him a room, a hot meal and a hot bath. Human needs seem so very simple and grounding, but he is grateful, because he knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when he also knows the misfortunate suffering of a hungry cold human.

Corvo is the one who finally makes some kind of reaction and offers Emily, not him, to see the Outsider to his quarters. Be it temporary or permanent, the Outsider can’t stop wondering. But he follows Corvo, giving him time, not demanding questions, not asking for a conversation. He follows him up the winding stairs, taking the elevator for some brief quiet moments. Enters the empty room with him and then ends up shut in there, as Corvo turns the lock.

The Outsider’s heart makes a jolt. An unexpected turn, and, perhaps, a conversation that is inevitable.

“For weeks… I have wondered. Where you are,” Corvo’s voice is choked, and the former deity wonders if he is angered. But Corvo says nothing else and merely looks at him heavily.

“Corvo… You must realise I had no means of making contact.”

Corvo looks, and the Outsider frowns.

“Is something wrong? The way you look at me–”

He is cut off quite surprisingly, Corvo striding across the room in massive steps, and next thing the Outsider knows, he is pressed boldly to his Marked charge, lips relentless and rough on his. But only for a moment, a beautiful moment, and then both Corvo and he relax in a sweet gentle hold of each other’s lips, unmoving, savouring. The Outsider feels himself all too alive, his heart fluttering and bursting from his ribcage, eager to pound against Corvo’s chest. He blushes hard because he doesn’t know how to kiss, even if he wants to madly.

Corvo moves his lips against his, carefully, and cradles his cheek. It’s a guiding hand, the movement of which the Outsider follows, allowing his lips to kiss Corvo’s. And like that it goes on, and on, and on…

He realises that talking is not always the only option. Perhaps, as a god, he has talked too much. Right now he is more than content to give himself to Corvo, words cut off, lips held in the most wonderful of traps. Kissing Corvo could be no better gift to receive for his coming home.

 

**prompt: the Outsider kissing corvo’s scars he got from prison**

* * *

There is little time for Corvo to nurse himself back to health after escaping Coldridge. With what little supplies the Loyalists have, he can barely mend nearly rotting patches of skin where the scars have been infected. Pedro provides him some salves and Callista does a fine job of bandaging him. And while this helps a little, the scars inflicted on his mind cannot be fixed by solutions and potions.

He has a particularly nasty headache a few weeks into his stay in the attic. It has more to do with scarred and damaged skin rather than dull pounding, but that one is present too, the abundance of Piero’s remedy being the cause. It’s a blessing Corvo has no mission planned for this day and night, meaning he can go downstairs, grab whatever food he finds and return to get some rest. There is a scar on his brow and temple where the torturer’s incandescent metal punished him and the skin there has fused together in a strange knot.

He touches it and hisses. An unpleasant reminder of the worst nightmares. It might never go away if he is not looked at by truly experienced competent specialists, which the Loyalists lack.

That pain is his companion for the rest of the day and well into the night. The day that was meant for rest turned into a mild version of the torturing nightmare from Coldridge, stinging and neural pulsing reminding him minute by minute about his failures, about horrible threats and dragging hours, spent in the torture chair. Even his wrists begin echoing with that pain, where the metal cuffs held him pinned down.

Corvo sighs and slides out of bed, instead rummaging through the bedside table’s drawer and the variety of bonecharms he has collected. One that seemed to be rather helpful with reducing pain from hitting the ground is what Corvo is looking for.

“I fear it will be little helpful, Corvo,” the Outsider’s voice takes Corvo’s attention away from the drawer. He hovers just beside him, no wind coming from the blackness of the Void around him, no warmth from his body. Corvo shrugs and rummages further. It’s worth a try.

“Your pain lies elsewhere, Corvo, and I think you know it. Months spent at the hands of bad people has scarred you more than their ridiculous metal. You don’t drink to drown your sorrows, you don’t smoke to choke on them. All that remains is to grind the pain over and over, until it ingrains itself into your scars.”

Corvo huffs, slamming the drawer shut. This is not helpful.

“But you are wrong.”

The Outsider is surprisingly close to him all of a sudden, even if the bed makes no sound as it sags. Gentle fingers take a hold of Corvo’s chin and turn him, the gaze of his dark human eyes meeting depthless blackness of the god’s.

“You don’t need to torture yourself with recollections. Take what you have right now, this moment, and turn it in your capable hands in your favour. Your scars won’t heal, but pain will subdue and eventually go away.”

Corvo looks at him and thinks that pain is already quieting. If only because the Outsider’s hands are so cool on his face and because his ethereal presence is more grounding than any person outside. The god leans in and Corvo finds himself mellow to the touch. He opens his lips, sigh drawing them apart, but the Outsider laughs softly and instead kisses his forehead. And then his brow and temple, the most gentle touch of driest lips. He lingers, a kiss of the wind, and then withdraws to bring Corvo’s hands to his mouth.

“I can’t fix what happened, nor would I try even if I could. But this, the consequence, the distraction, I can provide.”

Corvo doesn’t sign at him to ask if the Outsider has developed, much to his shock, an affection for the man. But quite certainly, he knows that the god did. Otherwise, why else would the Outsider push his jacket off his shoulders and kiss the scars on his shoulder where sizzling hot metal burnt?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A disgustingly cute prompt fill for an anon on tumblr!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

“Outsider’s eyes, get out of here! Last thing I need is youth getting it on in my yard!” an old lady shrieks, slamming the doors of her balcony and making a small flowerpot smash on the street’s cobblestones. It lands right next to the Outsider, whose slightly tipsy body is held by Corvo’s arms.

“Shh!” Corvo huffs at him, pressing him closer and holding his head to his chest. They are worse than a couple of teenagers, trying to keep quiet and failing abysmally, what with the Outsider’s entirely un-adult-like giggling.

There is more shrieking inside the old lady’s apartment now, where she laments about the insatiable couples that tend to fill Karnaca in this time of year. Someone grunts in response, only barely audible, drawing amused sounds from the Outsider’s throat. He looks up at the iron wrought railing, so acutely missing a pot among the explosion of petals and leaves, and presses close to Corvo, both their faces only partially obscured by the peculiar angled shadows of the small Karnacan plaza. When the lady’s yell of frustration fades into nightly silence, the former god bursts into softly wailing laughter, face pressed into Corvo’s chest.

“You are youth now, Corvo,” he pokes his chest and looks up with heavy eyes. Hot spicy wine has certainly made him drowsy as well as uncontrolled.

“ _ I _ am youth? Says a man of, what, four thousand years with ten on top? Actually, yes, I am youth,” Corvo grins, nosing at the Outsider and pecking his lips. There is a sigh, and Corvo can’t help a tipsy smile when the Outsider runs a strong hand through his silver mane of hair and tugs to pull him in a kiss. It’s messy and sloppy and tastes of wine and pears, and Corvo thinks he might just commit something scandalous in this very yard, much to the old lady’s displeasure.

They kiss for a short while, turning sweet lip caress into something different, where biting, tugging is involved. The door of the balcony, another floor this time, opens loudly, and makes the couple snicker and dive deep into the shadows, away from the yard and from the peaceful citizens, who had a small peek at the Lord Protector’s and his shadowy lover’s heaven.

They wander into the streets, still peopled, stifling hot and loud. Little few pay attention to an old man, whose age is of confusion - his hair is white, and yet his face is all too young for it. He may be over sixty, but no one has to know the Void sustains his body from crippling. Fine noble lines of age, however, still decorate his face.

The other man, his hair short and soft, soot black in a stark contrast against Corvo’s, clings to his arm heavily. He laughs softly, lightly, drunken on love and wine. There is something playful about how he holds himself, but his eyes, brilliant green, are spilling wisdom, knowledge and a bit of a terrifying impression that he knows everything about anyone who dares look at him. A strange absence of balance between humane and inhumane.

They make it to another street, close to a small residence they live in. But before either can get to the entrance, the Outsider slams Corvo against a streetlight, and Corvo huffs a loud low laugh when his insatiable lover kisses into his neck.

“We are one step away from home and you want to do it here?” he rumbles, his voice pleasantly low. The Outsider pays his reprimand no attention and kisses him more.

“Let me live a little,” is his snarky response, painted with a grin. Corvo shakes his head and succumbs, pulling the Outsider in for a deep proper kiss, tongues flicking and fingers clenching.

Who is youth here now?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small flourished prompt fill from tumblr asks!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Wherever the Outsider goes now, there is always a trail of decadence following him like a whimsical tale. And all of this is a credit to Corvo who provides his newly human lover with most generous gifts, showing him the beauty of life he has been deprived of. And thus a beggar turned god turned human... turned a beloved.

They come to Karnaca and there they enjoy the quiet treats of life that Dunwall often mistakes for depravity of wallets and yet jealously desires for it. There is a small villa, standing on the shore of Serkonan sands, washed by the Ocean’s waves. There is a setting sun and a rising rose of it, meeting the Outsider and Corvo every day.

Today, however, the weather has grayed down, melancholic rain falling from the sky and peppering the shore and the ocean with lightest taps. The window is open, letting in the breeze and playful wind, and the Outsider nuzzles closer to Corvo under a vast heavy blanket. It’s not cold, but the chilly bites of wind make him crave for more heat. And Corvo is warm, secure, safe, wonderful to hold on to. There is nothing the Outsider doesn’t love about him.

Corvo feels fidgeting of his lover and turns on the other side, offering him a quiet tight embrace. He is still half-asleep, heavy eyes and deep breathing, and the Outsider does not intend to awake him. Instead, settles against him, finding comfort in those arms, and reaches up to kiss Corvo.

How lazy and slow that kiss is, barely conscious! Brushing lips against each other, tasting bitterness of a morning mouth, feeling so human for it. The Outsider braves a flick of an eager tongue and gets a slight smile from Corvo and a slow pleasant response. Heavily, Lord Protector turns and leans down on the Outsider, who holds his lover, cradles his neck and kisses pliantly.

They barely move. Barely realise what they are doing, lost to the feeling, lost to the morning. There is a whisper of waves outsider as well as the whisper of rain. A smell of fruit and flowers in the air, a smell of sex still lingering from a beautifully spent night. Nothing about this isn’t perfect.

The Outsider smiles against Corvo’s lips and does not move away when Corvo snoozes on top of him, lips so close, in a near-kiss. Arms around each other, warm and pliant.

A waves crashes against the rocks and the Outsider hears it. He feels like that waves, hitting against Corvo and always having that support of his. That rock will always be there as will be the wave. And together, melded, they exist, and their lips merged, and their hearts touched. It’s a life a beggar could never have, a god never wanted to have and a human have hoped to. But as a lover... he finally has.

All of it. All of Corvo. And himself, whole.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you people like pain and angst, so here, have a small angst prompt fill in from a tumblr user. Warning for massive angst and DOTO spoilers.
> 
> Prompt: Corvo learns out Billie killed the Outsider. You can also read the prompt fill [here on tumblr](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/post/173825886212/if-you-havent-done-this-already-lethal-ending-of)

Living with an invisible hole in your chest is a great burden that Corvo feels he can carry no more. It’s a cavity that eats at him, expands, drains him of life and joy, and for the longest of time he can’t understand why. Or rather, wishes to disregard the fact that maybe, just maybe, his god is dead.

It’s a realization that looms over him every moment of his life. It’s an echo of a dead voice in his ears that once whispered to him in the Void. It was a soul that controlled all souls, and now it was just another left to wander its eternal endless boundlessness. Corvo hopes that in death the Outsider found peace instead.

The news arrive with a shadowy looking messenger who delivers a letter. Just a small folded note that Corvo carries with him anywhere from that moment on, just a phrase, “The Void is empty, and I’m sorry.”

He recognizes the scribble of Billie’s from the many times he has seen her handwriting aboard the Dreadful Wale. Oh how dreadful the news its owner carries!

How do you explain to the world that your silence, your grief and pain are not for Jessamine alone, but for a black-eyed god who lent him a hand, who gave him a gift, who carried his restless heart for over a decade? How do you explain the sudden splash of white in your hair and that your body seems to age by days, not years. Even in death of his name, the Outsider’s mark still carries a deadly sentence, should Corvo publicly reveal it.

It is rather morbid that when Corvo goes to bed, he entertains himself with images of the Outsider’s dead body. How does a god die? What does a deicide entail?

He imagines a bloodless wound in the Outsider’s chest or the lifeless eyes that turn human for one last moment. He thinks of a speck of blood to paint his bloodless lips. The image horrifies him and he buries it in sobbing cries in his pillow when no one can hear, where no one can ask, “why do you mourn a heretical god?”

And Corvo for the longest of time wonders - indeed, why?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely prompt fill for a tumblr anon!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

**66\. “Please don’t go.”**

**73\. “I missed you.”**

* * *

 

“Please, don’t go.”

Words catch him in a near fall, tugging like a fishing hook, and he pulls himself back to the Void to turn and look at Corvo. He has watched him for many years since their last meeting, but only now can he see Corvo’s visage so clearly and so close.

Age has painted him well, suits him for a father role, for a Royal Protector role, for many other roles he chooses to take on in his quest to protect his Empress and his daughter.

The Outsider can never help admiring age. It both saddens and makes him curious. After all, age means someone is leaving. And what is another dead person to a god?

In fact, one too many.

He steps a little closer, and at the whim of his mind, the Void rearranges itself. The rock they stand on splits in two and the part with the vast shrine drowns somewhere below. Other rocks and slabs pull up, ruins of Dunwall’s harbor peeking here and there. The Outsider gestures at Corvo to sit on the edge.

“You will not fall,” he says, and the meaning is double and clear. There are many ways Corvo could fall. None would happen.

They sit on the edge of the rock, legs dangling in the mist. A whale is passing by, so far and so distant, they can only see its magnificent outline. And hear its song, sad and captivating in the deep nothing of this place.

“It’s been a few long years. I’ve missed you.”

Corvo’s eyes, sincerity spilling from the gleam of them, are fixed on the Outsider. He is always studied, but never truly looked at. Corvo looks, however. He has seen him so many times before, and he always  _looks_. The Outsider never knows what to make of the man. He always brings a surprise, always makes him stumble over his own judgements and predictions. A human’s heart is a corrup organ, yet Corvo Attano managed to defy all odds and laws of humanity. He may not be the one the Outsider can use for his long game, but he is certainly one to choose to be closer to. Maybe, when the Outsider himself falls, Corvo would once again surprise him. And catch him.

He is certainly waiting for that day. But till then, Corvo has a long way ahead to go, and the Outsider has much yet to see. In this little instant of time, they can allow each other a moment of nostalgia, hands moving closer and closer to intertwine and hold, rocks of the Void leaving a cold textured impression in their skin.

The Outsider is used to it. Corvo doesn’t seem to mind. His gaze is too busy with looking at the Outsider.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon requested a Corvosider beach fic for hot weather coping, so here it is :)
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

“I wish it were the Month of Darkness,” the Outsider grumbles, sitting in the sand and playing with handfuls of it. Corvo, who sits beside him, grins and relaxes, his arms drawn back and fingers digging into the sand. Unlike Corvo, who is used to high temperatures and washes of the sun, the Outsider is not used to it at all. The sun, in his opinion, has no right to shine so bright, and his eyes are sensitive, and his skin even more so. It would have been simple complaining and whining, but Corvo knows for the fact that all that is true for his companion of hand and heart. 

“We could head back to the Tower and get you comfortable.”

“No… I think I would like to swim again,” the Outsider replies, turning to look at Corvo with his brilliant green eyes. He smiles a little and moves his hand to catch Corvo’s little finger with his. Corvo gives him an exesperated sigh, a laugh - and takes his hand to hold.

The Outsider’s first time in hot weathers of the Month of Earth. Though Dunwall is not the worst place to be in the Empire during this time, for the man who spent a hole eternity in a cold sunless place it is more than enough to get sunburnt all too soon. At least, he can indulge in the cold waters of the ocean, playing with rare fish and watching the whales in the distance. There is longing in the Outsider’s eyes when he dashes back to the waves and dives into them. He is a surprisingly good swimmer, a natural one, after Corvo taught him.

Corvo runs after him, and cold water accepts him with shiver and ice. He laughs a little, feeling his body react, and looks for the Outsider who splashes just beside him. His black hair is plastered to pale skin and his eyes gleam, face wet and cool with rolling droplets. In the sun, he looks just as blinding as the star. And the way he gazes, majestic stance gone and replaced with sheer happiness and even sillyness of freedom, is so appealing and sweet.

Corvo, suddenly washed both by a wave of water and affection, steps closer to pull the Outsider boldly against himself and kisses his soft mouth. The Outsider responds fervently, his cool from water body pulled against Corvo’s.

They kiss, their ankles and backs sprayed with water and foam, and in this moment of day, with the burning sun and cold ocean, it is more than bearable. They kiss, and time stops just for a moment. They kiss, and the whales are singing far away.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill from tumblr to write the Outsider being confused by his emotions after getting closer to Corvo.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Fifteen years is a long time for a man. Not so long for a god whose life has been dragged on for millenia, not in a place where time exists but matters not. If he had to, the Outsider thinks, he would have waited even longer.

And besides, he didn’t know he had something to wait for until one moment he realised. Like the dawn he was watching, stood beside Corvo on a narrow balcony, their hands touching tentatively on the wrought railing. That strange moment that made his guts twist in a strange motion that he couldn’t quite recognize.

His heart has not been beating for thousands of years, so why on earth should it start now? And it doesn’t. His body is not human, but emotions circulating through it… are terrifyingly so. Human. Suddenly, a cavity in the power and all-possible godhood of his that makes him untouchable. Where he employed coldness of mind, there is now chaos and a lack of focus. As if blinded by it, he doesn’t know yet if he likes it or not, but it allows him a relieving break from the ever moving Void and what pasts, presents and futures it reveals to him. In this moment, he is drawn to a man who stands beside him, whose dark eyes look from beneath a messy fringe and where the softest smile touches his age-painted eye wrinkles. 

He had hundreds of centuries to build an impenetrable facade of a god, surround himself with mystique and all the questions without answers. There has never been one to break through it, but Corvo did, he did, removed the hard-made bricks and pushed to the god’s true nature, the one that maybe he has long forgotten in his attempt to run away from pain. Or maybe they worked their way towards each other, the Outsider, letting himself closer to this wonderful man, drawn in by his own curiousity and by what Corvo was.

“Are you well?” Corvo asks, his touch on the Outsider’s cheek bringing him back to this present. The god looks back. “You look a little pale.”

Pale for a god whose blood has trickled away on the altar, this says something.

The waves wash over a small dam at the foot of the Tower. There are leaves from the nearby trees, old, cracked in the middle a little, but their roots powerful and driven into water. It looks… ready for changes. Above them, looking in his sunset days is the Outsider, looking in Corvo’s eyes, too. The god is not sure where this puts him and what it makes them. But like those trees and their rotten golden foliage, he expects a turn in events. And maybe, just maybe, Corvo will be there to put him back together.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill: the Outsider ages faster than normal after coming back from the Void, gets some silver hair and has some ""old man cheese" happening with Corvo!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :)](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

Corvo raises a heavy gaze at the calendar on the wall beside him. In just a few months he will be 59, and the knowledge unsettles him a little.

With the link to the Void cut off by the Outsider’s return to the waking world, Corvo’s body no longer has the superiority and advantage of being magically sustained. And as if trying to make up for the slowed down aging process of over 15 years, his body reclaims the weaknesses of age. His hair has long gone entirely silver, perhaps, too much even for an almost 60 year old man. His face is lined with age more than before and his knees hurt all too often when he stays too long out in the night, watching the peace of Dunwall streets.

But at least he doesn’t have to feel alone.

The Outsider, now a man of another name, has also tasted the bitter pill of aging. He is old, ancient even, over four thousand years of experience at his disposal. And that age tries to catch up with him too.

It’s a sunny morning when he discovers it.

“Five. Five white hairs, how am I supposed to deal with that?” he whines, staring at the mirror and holding a lock of hair close to it. Corvo gives him an amused grin.

“Call it a fashion choice and watch half of Dunwall follow your whim as usual,” he replies, softly brushing his fingers through the Outsider’s hair. He playfully swats his hand away.

“You can get away with it becase you, Corvo, are old and handsome at it. I am…”

Both of them laugh a little - saying “not old” would be an incredible understatement. Instead the Outsider quickly pats over his hair, smoothing it and trying to hide the glowing white hairs in the locks of pure blackness. Corvo watches him, highly amused, and wraps his arms around the Outsider’s waist, resting his chin on his bony shoulder. The Outsider lets him, relaxing in a tight hold, and sighs. His green eyes flick to the mirror where the two man look at each other through reflections.

“At least, seeing myself age means I’m alive.”

His voice is distantly sad, but his eyes are calm and content. Corvo looks at him, kisses his cheek, feeling that smooth skin has gone prickly with stubble and a little more lined from the laughter. 

“Yes, you are. And if luck may have it, I shall see you more alive in years to come.”

It’s a bittersweet promise, both men knowing it might never come to life. But a bittersweet promise is better than a hollow one.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I collected quite a few ficlets and prompt fills from tumblr that I haven't published here, so here is a massive ficlet dump in no particular order!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) You can also send me a prompt!](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

**made up fic title prompt: His eyes followed me**

* * *

 “The Outsider Walks Among Us” is a tale long born, a cautious whisper by a child’s crib, a warning for a loved one stepping over the threshold. Always to remember that the god of the Void is watching.

He is, of course, but a neutral observer, but who is there to understand him, when eyes so black, eyes of soot and dream and oil, look from the most unsuspicious corners? Who is there to think of the god’s intention, when the holes in his face are watching, scaring anyone to near-death.

And what of those who did not run in terror when his gaze was directed at them? At the woman of heart of steel and greed for power to surpass any Emperor. At the man whose face was scarred and tired and who knew his mistakes all too late. At the woman, who held the Empire at her heart and whose heart was pierced then. At the man who bled for truth and betrayal and who did not beg the black eyes for forgiveness, but loved every ounce of thick blackness dripping in them?

His eyes followed that man to every corner of the world, and the Outsider watched, observed, studied… and eventually even admired. His eyes followed, and the man’s eyes followed his mystical shape in return.

 

**made up fic title: black and blue**

* * *

 Here in The Hound Pits pub the view is not quite as magnificent as from the Tower. But its raw diversity, its unattended aesthetic of the forgotten is just as appealing, Corvo finds, looking at the night skyline of the city and the sea. So blue.

Sitting on the edge of one of the old apartment buildings, he looks at the point where the clouds merge with the sea, where the docks disappear into the horizon, occasionally cut with a glide of a whaling boat. Beside Corvo sits his new acquaintance of the Void, a black-eyed man. His pointed sharp profile looks pale and mystical against the dark brick wall. Here in the shadows everything is black.

A boat hoots in the distance.

“It is rare that I take delights in physical observation of cityscapes rather than the infinite threads of humanity’s existence. This is a much more peaceful activity. Less… tearing apart,” the Outsider muses, shrugging. Corvo gestures to tell him that watching Dunwall at night is one of the most beautiful and enjoyable things he has ever done. And that Jessamine loved it, too.

Silence falls between them again, the kind that makes you feel warm and content. Corvo’s gaze wanders from the top of the Tower down to the city heights, to the Kaldwin bridge, to the boat that is just about to bring its haul into the bay.

Somewhere not far a bottle breaks and someone shouts. There might be murder happening, and no one is really in their place or time to help. Cruel, and truthful.

The Outsider’s index finger draws a line from Corvo’s up to the mark which he traces carefully. Corvo’s heart clenches, flutters at the delicate touch. The god’s fingertip traces the whole of his hand, always coming back to the mark. The image is black, sooty, and when the Outsider places his palm on top, blue light shimmers through his fingers.

It’s a new step. A small step. And Corvo takes another step, wondering, which places it is going to take him, this vague uncertain path.

 

**prompt: corvo teaching the outsider to do something, and the outsider getting gradually frustrated with it (my idea turned into a piano lesson fic!)**

* * *

 

“And remember, thumb goes after your ring finger,” Corvo explains gently, helping the Outsider’s hand adjust into a decent arch. From the side Corvo sees how perfect his partner’s nimble fingers are for playing instruments. Pale skin against the whalebone carved keys, a delicate touch for deep sounds. He is but a novice in this, but soon, Corvo knows it, with daily practice the Outsider will surpass him and play to his heart’s delight.

But right now, there is much yet to do ahead. And Corvo, an ever patient man, taught by the suspence of the streets to wait, to hold back, to observe, teaches a simple practice to help the Outsider feel the keys and learn the movement of a hand.

“I think I understand,” the Outsider says, flashing his green eyes at Corvo and then turning back to the instrument.

The music room is well lit, windows opened ajar and looking out onto the yard down below. A fair view, Corvo admits, but the one sitting beside him is fairer.

The grand piano sounds again as the Outsider touches the key with a deep sink, and his fingers thoughtfully follow the gamma. Thumb-index finger-middle finger-ring finger-thumb again.

“Well done,” Corvo says softly and leans in to kiss the Outsider’s cheek. The former god, now a young man of many qualities, blushes and looks at him briefly. Blush is an entirely beautiful quality of his, wonderfully human, something Corvo chases to do every day. A compliment, a question, a small talk and kisses - all this makes the Outsider’s pale face redden beautifully. There is still boldness of a god in the way he behaves, but streaks of humanity show through as well.

“Let’s go over this again,” Corvo offers, and the Outsider agrees, returning his hands to the instrument. It will be a long practice, but on all accounts worth it.

 

**prompt: after returning little emily to the throne, corvo doesn't celebrate, regretting killing some people in his way, and the outsider sympathizes, revealing his own story**

**([ _this fic also got the sweetest art by the prompter, and everyone please go take a look! i love it!_](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/post/178083394452/i-hope-this-corvosider-prompt-is-okay-after-the))**

* * *

 “Why so sad a victor you are, Corvo?”

The Outsider’s deep voice echoes as he joins Corvo on the roof of the Hound Pits tower. It’s a place of solitude and only a man with supernatural powers could ever get there.

“Have you not defeated all your enemies, have you not brought young Emily to her rightful place as the new Empress of the Isles? Many would have called it an act of heroism, an accomplishment, at the very least. Yet you stay away from the feast and brood at the sunset.”

Corvo’s shoulders tense when the Outsider runs his fingertips over his coat. The man turns to look at him, and in the dark eyes there is regret. An emotion the Outsider has witnessed all too rarily.

“I don’t want Emily to rule on the throne that I tainted with blood,” Corvo replies heavily, rubbing his hands together. The Outsider tilts his head and runs his fingers from the shoulder to the man’s hand where a black mark is burnt into his skin.

“Sacrifice is often a necessary evil,” he says vaguely, and Corvo gives him a bitter smile.

“I’m sure you have seen all of it.”

“First hand knowledge,” the Outsider replies, and that has Corvo’s attention.

Expectant gaze, curious eyes, irresistable, fascinating.

He has never told his story to anyone. Not of the terror of being tortured, prepared for the ritual that will have stripped him of blood, of life, of humanity and of any ties to the living world but a ghostly presence as a myth and a vague religion. He never wanted this, but a sacrifice was necessary for the hungry Void. The Outsider never agreed with it, but he has seen many times in the many pasts what could have happened, had he no become the new avatar of the Void.

When he finishes the tale, he finds his hand held by Corvo’s. The touch, the hold is delicate, and the Outsider for a moment enthralled by the way Corvo’s fingers trace over his palm, his long fingers and then lace them together. The man brings his hand up for a kiss, trembling breath warmly touching upon pale skin.

They have done it only once before and it unsettled the Outsider by how human he suddenly felt. This was no different, and the Void wanted him back.

Corvo holds onto his hand softly, kissing it over and over, lips tasting the metal of rings.

“No sacrifice is redeemable. But if it happens inevitably, your story tells me, it at least should be made worthwhile.”

The Outsider leaves the rooftop with his hands trembling from delicate kisses and with his lips aching from Corvo’s devouring kiss. They will not see each other for over a decade, but the story of the Outsider’s birth and the subtle lesson Corvo will carry in his mind till the next time they meet.

 

**prompt: after the outsider becomes human, he tries to figure out what it's like to have a heart**

* * *

 They lie in bed, blankets carelessly thrown aside, legs tangled and arms drawn around each other. It has been a long night of caress and love, and by the time the sky is entirely dark, speckled with stars, they lie exhausted on a warm bed, holding each other dearly.

It is their first night.

The Outsider turns to his lover, green eyes dark in the middle of the night. He gazes for a long moment, unashamed and unafraid, and Corvo looks back, entranced by the look of such liveliness that he has never seen on the former god. He can see the irises and the dark spots of wide-blown irises, and the way his eyes move to look at Corvo.

So beautiful he is, Corvo cannot help a sharp inhale and a deep kiss.

When they part again, the Outsider softly guides Corvo’s hand to his chest. Corvo feels the ribcage, feels the soft beating of a human heart. There it flutters, gentle and slow, pumping blood to make the Outsider’s cheeks burn flushed, his body feel warm. 

“Does it feel different?” Corvo whispers, dragging his hand down the Outsider’s sternum and drawing a circle over where his heart would be. The Outsider shivers tangibly, leaning his head to Corvo and softly kissing, almost missing, the spot on his jaw.

“Heavy. So alive, like it wants to escape.”

“It won’t,” Corvo replies reassuringly, and the Outsider smiles. His arm lifts and he reaches for Corvo’s hand on his chest to lace their fingers together, still pressed to the man’s chest where the heart is beating its merry rhythm away. For a while they listen, succumbing to dreams, but persisting to spend a little more conscious time together that feels like a liminal space on its own.

Corvo softly frees his hand and draws more lines on the Outsider’s chest. Drags it over his ribcage, over an erected nipple, to the beating heart again and up to sharp collarbones that had plenty of Corvo’s attention earlier. He traces reddened marks and then finds another path, all the while the Outsider trembles and breathes, his chest heaving faintly beneath Corvo’s touch.

“What do I do to not let it escape?” the Outsider asks, a question seemingly silly, but so… complex in its answer. What  _does_  a person do?

“You live. Like a human, you feel, live, experience. Sometimes you hurt, and sometimes you rejoice. You love and you learn to try and not to hate.”

“It sounds complicated,” the Outsider huffs a little, and Corvo shushes him with a soft deep kiss again. His finger is now drawing lines, tracing over the bony shoulders, down the pale arms and to the nimble fingers.

“Yes… no one said life as a human is easy. But oh, my love, you are doing so well. And for what it is worth, as a Lord Protector, as your…” Corvo loses the track of a word that so skillfully evades him, “I shall keep your heart safe.”

The Outsider’s heart beats faster as he gazes at Corvo again, and it may just be the most humane sign of recovery from the prison of heartless cold.

 

**prompt: corvo passes away, and the outsider laments his death as well as realises it's the first time he was so attached to a human being**

* * *

 In the end, the worst is to realise that nothing held Corvo back. No tied strings, no unresolved issues, he passed peacefully and freely, his spirit spared by the prison of the Void.

The Outsider is happy for that. Corvo will not know the horrors of wallowing in regrets, in hopes that would never bear fruit, in deafening screams that seem to never cease. But with everything of Corvo gone, the Outsider realises he is more human that godhood claims to be.

The Void, with its existence slow like molasses and at the same time speedy like a wind, makes the Outsider feel stuck in an odd limbo where feelings come and go. It is not the first time he loses someone, but it is the first time he loses someone who has a meaning. Corvo, a man who never fitted in the entire picture, even though he has always been its essential piece, was a pleasant surprise. Not prone to typical violence, his quiet posture signifying of safety, he gave the Outsider a new view on the world. There have always been exceptions, but not quite so prominent.

Of course, it would be a lie to say that the Outsider didn’t truly care. He did, coming to the shrines to every call, visiting of his own volition, falling in love without it. As a lover he is glad that Corvo is free. As a possessive god of the Void, he wants to scream into the very matter he is bound to, just so the strange pain in his head and chest stops.

When his screams stop, whales sigh in relief and the world falls peaceful again. The god carries on, ad infinitum, but with a small gift from Corvo to hold close. Lessons and a reminder that there are always exceptions.

And miracles happen, too.


End file.
